I Imagine Death So Much
by TheBrightestNight
Summary: It feels more like a memory.


**And here's the last idea.**

 **This is the third in a series of me trying the "project my feelings onto fictional character(s)" thing. My first one was also PJO (You Knock Me Out) and my second was for ML (Be Careful with that One, Love)—both drabbles, because I can't write long angst. Too exhausting. This one's more like a ficlet, though, this time around because the angst doesn't really come until the very end.**

 **So, this is the last one for now…because the world feels like it's ending, my anxiety is through the roof, period cramps suck, and I woke up in pain the morning I came up with these ideas.**

* * *

 _When's it gonna get me?_

That was always the first thought in her mind when she woke up. Which was always hard. And had been for the past…how many years had it been? 18? Had it really been 18 years already? Had she really kept living, _survived_ , for 18 years? And, still, Death had not come for her.

Then she'd close her eyes for a moment, as she laid in bed, working up the motivation to get out of bed and begin her day.

 _In my sleep?_

Obviously, it hadn't last night.

Then she wondered when the last battle was going to be, if Death would not take her in her sleep. Besides, balance of probability, there would be a day when she'd perish, go down fighting a monster, searching for answers. None of which the gods provided, after _everything_ she'd done for them. Not even her mom had answered her prayers.

 _Seven feet ahead of me?_

She'd be following some leads today, literally and figuratively. An _empousa_ she'd interrogated gave her some intel on another bigger, uglier monster that might have some information regarding her search. Though, a lot these leads usually ended in dead ends. Mainly because she had to kill the monster.

 _If I see it coming, do I run or do I let it be?_

This question always flitted through her head right before the monster attacked. Sometimes, she almost didn't grab her weapon, defend herself. But something always made her move, leap out of the way, grab her weapon and slash, block the attack with a shield she'd acquired. (A gift, actually, from a dear friend.)

 _Is it like a beat without a melody?_

Sometimes, very rarely, she'd come close to losing the fight—she lose her weapon, she'd fall and be disoriented for a moment, she'd momentarily lose the will—and she'd wonder. What would it actually feel like? Would it be quick? Painless? Would the more sentient monsters be able to control their impulse that told them to kill demigods and slow down the process? Make it as painful as possible?

Would it finally bring her peace?

* * *

 _This is where it gets me._

A cov-op.

She was at their makeshift HQ, an abandoned building on the outskirts of the small Swedish town they were in. She had to admit, the tech that the CIA was providing her was impressive. That didn't mean she had any less chance of dying. The only reason she was working with them was for her own personal gain. Through her own channels, she'd found that the woman they were attempting to ambush tonight had vital information that may help her search.

 _On my feet, the enemy, ahead of me._

They'd been trying to capture their target, Diana, for years now, and by their combined channels, C.I.s, undercover agents, and other informants they'd finally managed to find where Diana was running her operations. It seemed a little _too_ good to be true. At the same time, it'd taken them months to figure it out.

So, here they were, getting ready to storm the castle—so to speak—at 3am, hoping to disorient anyone inside.

Something felt different about this cov-op, though. An inkling in the back of her head, telling her this might be the last op she ever did.

In this lifetime.

She wasn't going to led something as trivial as death stop her from searching.

 _If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me._

Usually, she did things with her own small, select team of ex-spies who still had connections to the underworld. Part of the reason she was here, helping the CIA, was because they knew she was an ex-spy and they'd promised to let a thing she'd done in Germany a few years back slide. She was, grateful, though, that the CIA had allowed her team to "tag along."

 _Weapon in my hand, a command, and my men with me._

Her instinct was right.

After setting up snipers in the surrounding area, she'd gone in with her team. She and her own personal team took out the soldiers outside the compound, guarding the doors, easily and quietly. Like clockwork, just liked they'd planned and practiced, they'd broken the door down and invaded the building, clearing the rooms.

The more rooms they cleared, the more suspicious she got. This was wrong. Their target should've been here.

She continued forward, however, kicking down the door and rushing in, gun at the ready, only to freeze, eyes widening in horror.

She turned to face the open door and had just enough time to yell, " _Bomb!_ " before it went off.

* * *

 _Is this where it gets me?_

She couldn't believe how sideways this negotiation had gone. She hadn't died this young since…well since the early 2000s. And she hadn't lost a negotiation since the early 3000s. She felt so _stupid_. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Now, she had to pay attention and think of a way to get out of this.

It was too early for her to die. She'd _just_ found a lead that seemed to have more potential than any of the others she'd pursued! It wasn't goddamn fair.

 _On my feet?_

Their numbers were matched. She had five people with guns and the man she faced also had five people with guns.

If things really did start getting hairy, she'd have to find a way to take their leader captive, force them to let her and her team leave. She had two guns on her and a knife at her thigh, so that was an option. The real trick was getting to him before she or her team members were shot. These guns were fast, and the people holding them were trigger-happy.

 _Several feet ahead of me?_

The room they were doing the negotiation was quite large, like a warehouse, but there were no windows because it was a completely abandoned underground facility from the late 2000s. It was a great place to make negotiations, hold kidnappees, torture people. The room they'd chosen was completely empty, but stained with green and black from the water and mildew. The only light there was were horrible fluorescent ones all across the edges of the ceiling.

They'd met in the middle. She was trying to negotiate the release of her captive for the information she was looking for that would further her search. She'd been told this man's intel was always good, but the only way he'd give it to her was if she either had something just as good in return or if she'd taken one of his most valued assets hostage. Seeing as she wasn't in the business of gathering info or making money by coning people, she decided to go with the latter.

Unfortunately, their captive had killed themselves when one of her guards had been paid off to give him the materials to do so.

She'd gone to the meeting to try and bluff her way out of it, get the intel, kill the men, and leave, but he'd called her bluff and she had no evidence, no proof of life.

 _I see it coming, do I run, or fire my gun, or let it be?_

"A shame," Kenneth said, though he didn't sound too disturbed by finding out one of his assets was dead. In fact, he seemed almost…happy about it. Or maybe it was because he was happy he'd caught her in a lie. "I can find another, but they were _invaluable_ in their field. Because you went back on your word, I now have to kill you." Kenneth shrugged.

"I told you, they killed themselves—" she tried, but Kenneth's men shot at her team, killing them instantly, before they could even defend themselves. She closed her eyes for, breathing deeply.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

 _There is not beat, no melody._

"You paid off my guard, didn't you?" she finally asked, opening her eyes again only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun. She was not afraid of death, though. In fact, she felt as if he were an old friend. Her stormy eyes shifted, to meet Kenneth's.

Kenneth simply smiled with humor and shrugged. "Better luck," he said, cocking the gun, finishing with, "in the next lifetime." before pulling the trigger.

* * *

The young demigods watched in awe at the girl before them, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, battling a son of Bellona, Kristoffer, who was eighteen. She was absolutely wailing on him with just her combat skills and a dagger. And he was considered the best, most skilled fighter in the Legion to date (which the children of Mars didn't much appreciate, but what was one to do?).

An older demigod, Andrea, one who'd served her time in the Legion and was now living comfortably in New Rome with a wife and two adopted kids came up to them. Andrea had come down the arenas to train with some friends of hers, but noticed the kids' entrancement with the girl and Kristoffer's fight.

"Watching technique?" Andrea asked.

The three kids jumped and looked up at her as she sat down, smiling.

"Uh, yeah, that girl…she's amazing! How long has she been here?" Jessie asked, turning back to watch the fight.

"That's the thing! She just arrived," Israel exclaimed. "Yet, it's like she's been training since birth."

"Maybe she learned somewhere else before coming to camp," Jackie speculated.

"You don't feel it, do you?" Andrea asked, smiling, looking down at the girl.

The three teens looked back at Andrea in confusion.

"Feel…what?" Israel asked, frowning.

Andrea pointed to the girl. "She's died a hero's death at least a hundred times. And she'd _died_ a thousand times—"

"More than that, mate," Val, one of Andrea's friends/training partners interrupted, coming up to join the small group. The teens' eyes widened in shock, their jaws falling open. "That's not even the surprising part." Val sat down, grinning. "She somehow found out how to cheat the system. She remembers every single incarnation she's ever had."

"No way!"

"That's impossible."

" _What?_ "

But it was true. They could tell it was true. Now that it'd been pointed out to them, the teens could feel the energy, the power, emanating off of the girl. She and Kristoffer were still fighting, but he was looking pretty exhausted. It wouldn't be long before he yielded.

"Why doesn't she just go to the Isles of the Blest?" Jackie asked, turning to look at Andrea and Val.

"They say she's looking for something she lost," Andrea answered.

"A long time ago." Val added.

Jessie turned to face the two older demigods too, a deep frown etched on his features. "What happened? Must be important to her if she's been searching all this time."

"It just…vanished." Andrea shrugged.

"How is that even possible?" Israel turned too, looking unimpressed and skeptical. "It had to have ended up somewhere, been taken by someone."

"That's what she's been trying to figure out," Val said, shrugging.

"You've got the story all wrong," Sam exclaimed, coming to join the party. They were another friend of Andrea and Val, who'd also come down to the arenas to spar. "She's not looking for some _thing_. She's looking for some _one_."

"Who?" Israel asked, looking even more skeptical.

Andrea, Val, and Sam all shrugged, making "I don't know" noises.

" _How_ can you be so nonchalant about this?" Jackie snapped. "She's died more than a thousand times? She remembers her past lives? And you treat it like this is completely _normal_ and not noteworthy at all?"

Andrea and her friends shrugged again and shook their heads, not really knowing how to answer that. It was something they'd grown up with, almost like a fairytale or a myth—the legendary story of a girl looking for something, being reincarnated again and again, remembering because whatever, or rather _who_ ever, she lost was that important to her.

"Okay, yeah, but _how_ do you lose a _person_?" Israel argued, ignoring Jackie. "And if this much time has gone by, don't you think that person's been dead? Shouldn't she just look around in the Underworld? Ask Pluto or Mors if they've seen any souls of the person she's looking for?"

"That's that thing," Val said, looking for once like the gravity of the girl's situation was finally hitting him. "I heard a rumor a long time ago, on a quest from a Greek demigod, that the soul was…completely lost. She _did_ ask, the _first_ time, Hades and Thanatos—because she was also a Greek demigod—but they either didn't know or wouldn't answer. No one…would answer."

The six of them stared out at the arena, at the girl. By now, the battle had long since finished. She was taking a water break. Though she was only sixteen, they could see the darkness in her eyes, the years upon years of experience and knowledge in her expression. The most prominent feature, though, was the pain. Decades and decades of agonizing loss, and a longing for the soul she still searched for. It was written all over her.

"What was her name?" Jessie asked quietly, as they gazed at the girl. "In her first life?"

Andrea, Val, and Sam all exchanged looks. The silence between them lasted so long, the three teens turned to look up at the older demigods. Finally, Andrea looked back at them, taking a deep breath.

"Annabeth," she told them in a quiet voice. "Annabeth Chase."

* * *

 **I hope it has the intended effect. I don't write angst often, but this is definitely the idea I'm most proud of in regards to the three ideas I came up with.**

 **idk if they'll be more. Maybe if I'm in a bad enough mood they'll pop into my head like these ideas did. We'll see. For now, that's all I've got.**

 **Thank you for reading,  
** **TheBrightestNight**


End file.
